Fame (Not Like The Movies #1)

by Lauren K. McKellar

  “Ha!” I laugh and snuggle into Tate’s side.

  He takes one hand and trails it through my hair. “Do you wanna just watch some TV and relax tonight? You know … instead of the hours and hours of crazy monkey sex.”

  I laugh. I love our crazy monkey sex. But something has shifted between us. And I know this is what Tate needs. “I’d like that.”

  And I would.

  Very much.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Tate

  It’s six in the morning, and the beautiful woman in my arms is still asleep, despite the thumping on the hotel room door.

  I ease out of bed, pulling the sheets tight around her. She murmurs something and stretches her arm out. God, she’s hot, even when she sleeps. My dick stirs, and I lick my lips. I’ll wake her up with my lips on her pussy, licking her into a state of frenzy. Then I’ll carry her to the shower and take her up against the tile walls, the steam, the heat—

  “Tate!”

  Janie?

  I race out of the room, sling a towel around my waist and wrench open the door.

  Janie heaves in deep breath after deep breath, one hand over her heart, the other clutching her cell.

  “Shit.” I place my arm around her shoulders and help her over to the couch.

  She shakes as I settle her down onto the white leather material, then her head lolls back and she sighs.

  “What is it?” I ask on a whisper, conscious of the sleeping beauty in the next room.

  “I just hadn’t heard from you …”

  Oh God. I glance over at my phone, which I haven’t checked since Madison arrived last night. Eight unread messages. Four missed calls. “Hey, I’m sorry.” I jump to my feet and grab a glass, filling it to the brim with water, taking it back and offering it to her.

  “Thanks.” She takes a huge gulp, then lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m too old to be having these panic attacks.”

  “It’s fine.” I sit next to her and rub small circles on my sister’s back. These attacks started when we were kids, and still cripple her soul today. It’s a fear of losing her family, and every time she suffers one it firms my resolve. This is why I do what I do. Seeing this broken woman, a result of too many assholes in her past, makes me more determined to erase the final terrors that haunt her. Even the ones she doesn't know about yet.

  Minutes pass, and gradually her breathing returns to normal. She looks at me and laughs, a mirthless cackle. “Well that was a lot of fuss about nothing then, wasn’t it?”

  I squeeze her knee and softly say, “It’s not nothing.”

  “Ah, it’s passed now. Now let’s talk about the reason why we’re whispering.”

  I shrug. “Just being considerate. You know Mikaela’s a light sleeper.”

  Janie glances at me, then at the shut bedroom door, then back to my face again.

  She jumps up, and races across the room.

  “Janie!” I hiss, rushing after her.

  I’m quick, but she has the advantage, and her hand wraps around the door handle before I’ve even reached the table. “Spill, or I’ll find out for myself.”

  A deep breath whooshes out from between my lips. “It’s Madison.”

  She smiles, a triumphant grin as she struts—yes, my pregnant sister somehow manages a strut—back to the couch. “I knew it!”

  I shrug and join her, my hands clasped over my knees. “I don't know how it happened. But she’s … well, she’s definitely in my bed right now.”

  “You don't know how it happened,” Janie scoffs. “Let me tell you, then. Anyone with half a brain could see that from the moment you two met, you haven’t been able to stop staring at each other.”

  “No, I—”

  “Being in the same room as the two of you makes me want to take my clothes off. Then hide under them, because of the crazy eye-sex y’all got going on.”

  I laugh. “We’re not that bad.”

  “No.” She licks her lips. “You’re worse.” She points a finger to my heart. “You care for her in here. I can see it. I know you.”

  I shake my head. “No. I mean, of course I care for her, but it's not like …”

  “When you know, you’ll know.” Janie smiles, and the familiar words that left my own lips less than twelve hours ago resound deep within me. “What’s this?” Janie picks up the photo album on the table and opens it.

  “Madison made it.”

  She turns the pages, ohhing and ahhing over all the photos, then freezing when she gets to the end. “This …” Her nail taps at the photo. “We don't have one of these.” Her lower lips wobbles, and I wrap my arms around her.

  “Hey.” I soothe. God, I hate seeing her cry. I’ve watched it too many times. “She got it from some media library? Then scanned the photo. It ran in the paper when …”

  “We should have thought of that.” Janie pulls back and swipes at her eyes. “Why didn't we think of that?”

  I think of the woman who’s changing the way I view things day by day. Who challenges me to think differently. “Sometimes you just need another person to see things in a different light.”

  Janie smiles. “So have you planned for the future with her?”

  “No.” I swallow. Somehow, I’ve managed to block that from my mind. I like Madison, I like her a lot, but she’s never mentioned wanting more. And besides. I have my sister to look after. I expel a breath. “I don't see how it’ll work. You know that I can’t ‘break up’ with Mikaela. Not until we’ve secured the money from the film. Besides, she lives in Australia …”

  “And you have a working passport. Who gives a shit about the money? At the end of the day, it’s nothing.”

  “Janie, it’s everything. You know I want to provide for you. That I want to make things for you and the baby …” I rub her stomach, as if for good luck, “perfect.”

  “If there’s one thing our past has taught me, little bro, it’s that you can’t buy perfect.” She ruffles my hair as if I’m still the annoying younger brother who she used to have to care for. “I’m gonna go. And you should get up, too. You’re needed on set in half an hour.”

  She walks to the door and then turns back to look at me. “Also, there’s been some news. The ash has lifted.”

  She leaves the room.

  My heart leaves my chest.

  ***

  Madison

  It’s the most amazing dream. Tate’s head between my legs, using that talented tongue and those skilful fingers to bring me to climax.

  I inch open one eye.

  Sadly, it’s only a dream. The bed beside me is empty, and I stretch out, the cool cotton delicious against my heated skin.

  “Tate?” I call. The door to the rest of the apartment is shut. That’s odd. Usually he leaves it open as he walks around naked, preparing coffee before he ravishes me in the bed. Or on the couch.

  Maybe it's time we tried out the shower again …

  “Hey.” The door to the bedroom flies open. Tate’s arms flex as he folds them over his defined chest, his towel slung low on his hips below the V that promises more. A slight frown creases between his eyes.

  “Hi.” I shuffle up and sit, the sheet falling from my chest. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing.” He uncrosses his arms, then walks past me toward the en suite. “I’m gonna have a shower.”

  “What?” I scramble out of bed after him. “I can't tempt you to stay here?”

  “Nope.”

  “No sex on the couch?”

  The taps turning on is my only answer.

  I flop back down against my pillow. What have I done?

  Half an hour later, we’re both dressed. Instead of our usual banter, a stony silence has settled between us while I lace my runners and Tate reads over his script for the day.

  “Okay, well, I’m gonna get going.” I stand and walk over to the head of the table where Tate sits.

  “Bye.” He doesn't look up from the sheets in front of him.

  “Hey.” I poke
at his shoulder. “What’s up? Why are you shutting me out again?”

  He looks back up at me, his face a mask. “Just leave. I know you’re going to at some point, anyway.”

  “What?” It’d almost be laughable, if he didn't look so angry. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Well, you will be. The ash has cleared. You can fly home today.”

  Oh.

  Oh.

  Back to my job.

  My country.

  My family.

  But right now, it’s not my home.

  I suck up a deep breath. Up until this point I haven’t thought about a future, but now? Now I know I don't want this to just be some island fling. And I don't care that it’s too soon, or that we live too different lives.

  Sometimes, you have to fight.

  And when you know, you know.

  I clench my fists and suck in more air, right to the bottom of my lungs. Now or never …

  “I’ll have to go at some point, but it doesn't have to be like this. We should talk … about us.” I’m standing on a cliff, and he has the power to push me off or hold me steady on the precipice of this relationship.

  Tate stonewalls me, and it’s then I decide I’m all in. I loved Mike; I know I did. But what I’ve developed with Tate, this incredible bond—it’s worth standing up for. It’s worth more than this.

  “I really like you, Tate Masters. I think you’re funny, and you’re sweet, and you make me believe I’m something more than what I’d pegged myself as.” My words quicken, running into each other, my pitch rising with each syllable. “With you, I’m just Madison. Nothing else. And I don't want this to end.” Tate doesn't meet my eyes, his hands still locked on the script. My heart stutters. “And I know you’re a celebrity, and I know we live in different countries, and I know it’s only been a few weeks, but don't you feel this?”

  It’s a split second. Half a heartbeat.

  An eternity of indecision.

  Then the chair flies back as Tate stands, his mouth slamming against mine. Our lips and teeth and tongues lock in desperate angry need and realisation. Realisation that this is more than what we’d signed up for. Realisation that this could be something real.

  His breath is hot and heavy as he pulls back. “I.” Kiss. “Need.” Kiss. “This.”

  Those words are my undoing.

  He needs this just the same as I do.

  ***

  Madison

  The day passes in a rush. I go to yoga, and surprise myself with how much my flexibility has improved. I’m not exactly a Zen doctor, but I can do some stretches that were well beyond my means three weeks ago, and my balance skills have improved.

  Not only that, but my relationship with the other inmates is on the up, too.

  “Would you like to sit with me?” Jacqui nods to the only empty seat at the table, by her right.

  I nod graciously. “Thank you. That would be nice.”

  Lowering my tray, I slide in beside her, careful to keep my passionfruit well to the left. It’s a mistake I’m not willing to risk making again.

  “So will you be heading home soon?” Kiara asks. “Now that the ash has cleared, and all.”

  “I guess.” I spoon the salad around my plate. Lettuce leaves in three different colours. God, I can’t wait to eat a burger again.

  When I leave.

  After our make-out session this morning, Tate and I didn't exactly discuss the whole mechanics of the what-comes-next situation. I’m hoping to see him later tonight, however, to discuss things, and hopefully come up with a solution.

  Hope.

  Seems as if there’s a lot of that involved.

  “I’m heading in the morning.” Kiara stabs her fork across the table at me. “So you can consider our morning run cancelled.”

  “You know, I think I’m actually going to miss those,” I muse. It’s true. The running became as much a part of my healing process as everything else. Sweat Yourself Over Him—maybe I could write a book.

  “You’ve gotten better.” Kiara forks some greenery into her mouth. “For a pushover.”

  “I have an idea.” Jacqui drops her spoon to the tray, the clatter barely a rumble over the voices of everyone else in the room. “Why don't we have a little party tonight?”

  “A party?” Kiara frowns. “Go wild and mix some chamomile tea with the green?”

  “No, silly.” Jacqui shakes her head. “I bought a bottle of tequila in here with me.”

  “Tequila?” Kiara shrieks, and Jacqui hushes her. “Well, shit. And here I was thinkin’ you were all so sweet and pure. Guess I shoulda shared my Cheetos with you from day one.”

  “Wait, you have Cheetos?” I ask. Who are these people, and what have they done with my yogier-than-thou retreat-mates?

  “You better believe it. I had M&Ms too, but they all ran out.” Kiara shrugs, as if they departed of their own volition.

  “We’ll meet down at the beach then? Nine?” Jacqui asks, her voice low.

  “Sure.” Kiara nods, then looks to me. “You in?”

  Tate doesn't finish filming tonight till ten-thirty, so I really don't have a reason not to. Besides, I’ve grown to kind of like these women. They may not have been people I’d have hung out with in the past, but we’ve grown together. And I can see we have a lot more in common than I’d originally thought.

  I reach for my phone to update Tate of my plans and tell him where I’ll be. We can always meet up later.

  “Count me in.”

  ***

  “You guys, I really love you.” Kiara loops one arm over my shoulder and one over Jacqui’s. “Like, so much.”

  “Aw, we love you too, super pea.” Jacqui shrieks to be heard over the Taylor Swift tunes blaring from my iPhone placed in one corner of the large purple blanket we’re using as a rug. “Super pea. What’s a super pea?”

  “Maybe like a pea with superpowers,” I muse. “One that can fight all the bad guys.”

  “All the dickhead exes who cheat and leave.” Jacqui wraps her hand around the neck of the tequila bottle and raises it in the air. “A toast! We need a toast to that.”

  “Yies!” Kiara holds up her glass.

  Jacqui pours for the three of us, her hand shaking as she moves from glass to glass. We clink together and knock them back.

  It’s only my fourth drink of the night, but the girls’ wild attitude is contagious. We set up straight after dinner for the last beautiful strains of sunset and continued to party as the moon rose, a glorious gem over the ocean.

  “We should take a selfie.” Kiara grabs her phone from the front of the blanket and we all lean in as she extends her arm, the camera focused on us.

  “Hold it still.” Jacqui swats at her arm.

  “I am.” She laughs. “It’s you who’s swaying.”

  “I think we’re all swaying.” I grip onto my knees for support. “Okay, okay. A little to the left—nope, other left—yes! Now the moon’s kind of lighting our faces.”

  “You are amazing at selfies,” Kiara says. “Smile!”

  The camera clicks six shots of us, laughing, grinning, having fun. It’s the sort of silly night I haven’t had in a long while. It’s the sort of fun the old Madison would have turned up her nose at when she discovered it didn't come with mini canapés and had no need for designer threads.

  “We look good.” Kiara’s fingers pinch together then release over the screen, zooming in. “Huh. That’s strange.”

  “What?” Jacqui asks, pouring us all another shot.

  “It looks like that actor, Tate Masters, is in the background of one of these photos.”

  Jacqui shrieks.

  We all look behind us.

  Tate walks toward our group. Moonlight turns his features to stiff marble. I stagger to my feet and smile, so happy to see him, only he’s not smiling.

  He’s not smiling at all.

  “Tate?” I ask.

  “Madison.” His voice is tortured. Shit. This is very, very bad. My st
omach twists. “Can we talk?”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Madison

  “It really is Tate Masters,” Jacqui hisses.

  “Sure.” I grab my phone and turn off the music, despite the girls’ protests. “I’ll see you guys back at the resort.”

  “Bye.” Jacqui waves.

  “Have fun with the sexy movie star.” Kiara makes a gesture with her hands that I really thought she was far too sweet to make. It's always the quiet ones …

  Tate and I make it back to my room in no time. We don’t see another soul; and it’s only when I shut the door that I realise it. “You went out without your disguise.”

  He nods as I throw my bag down on the chair and flop back on the bed. Tequila buzzes through my veins. I pat the spot beside me.

  “I’d rather stand.”

  “O … kay.” I sit up, staring at him and hoping for some clue as to why he’s here and acting so strange. “Is this about this morning? Because I’m not leaving you, Tate. I know you maybe have some problems with the idea of people abandoning you in the past, but—”

  “Don't pretend you have any idea what’s going on with me.” There’s venom in his tone, and I wince.

  “I’m sorry.” The word comes out on autopilot, and I berate myself for it. New Madison doesn't do that. She doesn't apologise for things she has no control over. “No, you know what? I’m not. I haven’t done anything wrong. Let’s talk about why you’re upset. I’m here. I’m listening.”

  “Isn’t that exactly the problem?” Tate throws his arms wide. “You’re listening. Always fucking listening.”

  “You’re not making any sense.”

  “I guess that’s what happens when the woman you were falling for turns out to be nothing more than a liar and a fraud.”

  I push to my feet and step closer to his foreboding figure. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t play dumb with me,” he scoffs. I don't know why he’s being such a dick, but I want to fight it. I want to at least make him explain. I won’t take his crap, but I sure as hell won’t let him run away from this, either.